You Can Only Hope
by Ayra Sei Ethari
Summary: Companion piece to "My Fairytale". Legolas debates whether to sail to the Undying Lands and hope to heal from his grief or stay behind to wait until Estel is born again and hope to fall in love again. Three Elves weigh him to help him decide.


**_You Can Only Hope_**

_Summary:_ Legolas debates whether to sail to the Undying Lands and hope to heal from his grief or stay behind to wait until Estel is born again and hope to fall in love again. Three Elves weigh him to help him decide. Companion piece to "My Fairytale".

_Rating:_ K

_Genre:_ general

_Canon Character(s):_ Legolas Thranduilion ; Thranduil Orophinion ; Arwen Undómiel ; Lord Elrond Peredhel ; Aragorn Arathornion and Elladan & Elrohir Elrondion (are mentioned, but not really big role)

_OC Character(s):_ Estel Elessariel (is only mentioned for the most part)

_Set During:_ after RotK, really between Chapters 79 and Chapter 80

_Note:_ If you haven't read "My Fairytale", warning: you will be slightly confused. But, hey, if you read it and think you're interested, I would suggest reading "My Fairytale" and then coming back to this piece.

Oh, and everything's spoken in Elvish.

* * *

~ _Thranduil Orophinion_ ~  
I finally coaxed the truth out of Aragorn a few weeks after the incident in question. I certainly had had no idea about what had happened; one day, I had met the girl, Estel Elessariel, and the next day, she was gone and my son was heartbroken, depressed, and empty. He wasn't the only one, for everyone I saw had been mourning her, especially her family, but he certainly had been the most affected.

So I did the best I could.

I woke my son up early, hauled him out of the castle, plopped him on a horse, and went for a long morning ride.

He went along, reluctantly yet without much fuss. The fire of his spirit seemed to have been quenched, and that scared me, for it was the fire burning inside of him that had made me so proud of my son.

We passed a half hour in silence, really going nowhere. Just enjoying the scenery . . . or so was our excuse.

Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. "Legolas, _ion-nin_, what has robbed you of your voice?" I asked, trying to aim for a teasing tone yet not quite succeeding.

He didn't answer immediately.

That worried me even more. Normally, my son would have risen to the challenge without hesitation. That he did not told me the depth to which he had sunken into his misery, for whatever reason that he had not yet told me. But I would get an answer from him, because Estel was gone and therefore no one else would know better than my son what had gone so terribly wrong in the course of a day.

"I am well, Ada," he replied. "My mind seeks to enjoy the scenery more than it does to spoil the peace and quiet with . . . idle chatter."

"Idle chatter?" I suppressed a snort. "Ah, _ion-nin_, you have never spoiled anything with idle chatter around me. . . And I doubt you would now. You have just completed a journey of the likes that has not been undertaken in the memory of our entire race – and yet you say not a word of it. Did it mean so little to you?"

"No!" he insisted. "I have made my friends. It was not worthless. The Ring was destroyed. Sauron is vanquished once and for all, as you once sought yourself during the seven-year siege of Mordor."

"Perhaps. But it seems to me that Sauron and the Ring are not the only things to be vanquished." I eyed my son as I shifted the reins to one hand; my horse responded by slowing the walk even further. "Now, tell of this journey, then, if it not worthless, for it is not in any way 'idle chatter'."

So, reluctantly, Legolas told the story, in halting yet eloquent bits and pieces. He spoke of their journey through the Pass of Caradhas, and thence to the mines of Moria, and Lothlórien, and then to Amon Hen, where the fellowship had finally broken apart. Then he continued, speaking of his pursuit of the Uruk-hai all the way to Rohan, and his encounters therein in Edoras, and his adventures during the Battle of Helm's Deep. Then back to Gondor, through the Dimholt Road and with the army of the dead, and straight into the Battle of Pelennor Fields and thence to the Battle of the Black Gate at the doors of Moria.

He spoke glowing of his friends, like Aragorn and Gimli and Eldarion – but precious little, I noted, of Estel.

When he seemed done, I said, "You have done much, traveled far, and seen wide. . . But what have you learned of life, _ion-nin_? Is there anything . . . else . . . that you have not told you?"

Legolas's eyes darkened, the blue becoming fletched with shadows and darkness and grief. His lips thinned and he seemed almost angry. He averted his gaze, and said, "Aragorn has told you of . . . of Estel?"

I debated for a moment, and then answered, "Only very little."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because," I said sharply, "I wanted to hear everything from _you_, _ion-nin_. _You_ are my son, not Aragorn, and if there is one who finally captured your heart, I would like to know it from you."

"You already know everything there is to know."

"No, I do not!"

Finally, my son turned to face me for the first time, and for the first time, he seemed to realize just how much he was growing distant from me, from his friends, from _life_. Shock flitted across his face, and then fear, and then anger, and then resignation. I had provoked the fire – yet it had burned for but a moment before it was quenched anew.

"Legolas," I continued in a softer voice, "I knew of your intent to marry her. And I knew of your adventures with her during the course of the Fellowship. But I want to know how you came to her."

For a moment, I thought Legolas would simply ride away and ignore me.

But then, he took a shuddering inhale.

"I . . . I do not know when it started," he began, and his voice was at the same time raw and musical, so much so to make my heart ache. "But by the time she left, I knew. . . Perhaps I always knew."

"Knew what?" I prompted.

"That I love her. That I loved her."

Then he told me everything – how she'd unhesitatingly fought in the mines of Moria and Amon Hen and Helm's Deep and the Pelennor Fields and at the Black Gate; how she'd comforted him over his shortcomings and failures when he could not, in the end, prevent the explosion that blew part of the wall of Helm's Deep into the air; how she'd been at once so wise and majestic when she'd argued with leaders about what to do or when she'd revealed herself as the true Queen that she was destined to become and yet so young and vulnerable when the ghosts had pounced and she remembered that she still really was a child in many years; how she'd been stubborn, and careless, and impulsive, and beautiful, and merry, and gentle; how she'd been the blend of Elven beauty and grace and Man's spirit and persistence; but most importantly, how she had captured his heart.

It was no easy feat.

I could easily see now that this was more than some crush.

He loved her. He had loved her. Whatever it was, there had been love on both sides, and the fact that it was now gone was slowly killing my son.

When Legolas was done, I let silence reign for a little.

"Do you think I am a fool?" he asked quietly. "For letting this happen? You have warned me, before, of why the Eldar keep their distance from the Edain, and not merely because they can be backstabbing liars."

I turned my gaze sharply. "No, Legolas, you are no fool. When there is love, true love, sometimes it catches even the wisest of us off guard, and then who are we to care what race the other is? We cannot control it, and often we do not wish to."

"That is how I feel!" he cried.

"Yes. I cannot emphasize, for even now your mother waits for me across the sea – but I can listen, and understand, and be there." I reached out and placed a hand on my son's shoulder. "Legolas, you are my only son. And I would wish that if there was trouble, even if you do not think I can understand, at least come to me, so that I may know and try to help. I cannot promise I can ease the pain, but seeing you in pain and me in ignorance . . . Ah, that burns worse than any foolish mistake you may have made."

"I understand, Ada. And I am sorry. I just . . ."

I waved it aside. "It is forgotten. I am not concerned with the past. I only want the best for the future – _your_ future."

He understood at once. "What is your suggestion, Ada?" he asked, his eyes flickering.

I hesitated. Usually I was so sure, but in this. . .

I was his father. He respected me, trusted me, loved me. But here was as new ground for me to cover. I had never gone through this before. And sometimes my instincts were not always the best, for my son was not me, and this situation was as foreign to me as Estel's own mortality was when compared to my immortality, for my wife was an Elf like me.

"I think you should sail to Valinor, when the time comes," I answered finally. "But it is your decision, in the end. I know that I shall not sail myself for some time anyways. Now come! It is long past time to break our fast, do you not agree?"

~ _Arwen Undómiel_ ~  
I found Legolas sitting on the wall, gazing out over Minas Tirith as he was wont to do in the days and now weeks since Estel's departure. It hadn't been that long ago, but when I noted the changes in Legolas, I could almost believe a whole lifetime had passed, and that that was the reason Legolas had changed so much . . . and not for the better, either.

Even his father had noticed, and dragged him outside early this morning.

I was actually surprised King Thranduil had waited that long before acting. He was impulsive and sometimes harsh, but he loved his son with a single-minded intent that surpassed all else. To see Legolas hurt, in any way, produced a fury even worse than anything else.

Except that there was often little he could do to ease his son's pain.

And this time, that was especially true.

Because Legolas wasn't physically hurt; there were no bruises, cuts, scrapes, or broken bones to be tended to and healed. Legolas wasn't even mentally hurt; he wasn't traumatized, or tortured, or even shaken.

No, this time, the blow had been to his fëa itself.

"Legolas," I said quietly.

He didn't even twitch. "Queen Arwen," he replied, his voice just a note softer and sadder than usual.

But that single note was telltale.

I laughed. "Legolas, we have been friends for many years, and often have you visited the halls of Imladris. Why the sudden formality? For if you insist upon it, then so will I, Prince Legolas," I added, emphasizing the title in such a way that I knew he could not possibly miss it.

His hands tightened briefly, and then he relaxed. He turned to me, an apologetic expression on his face. "I am sorry, Arwen." He sighed. "It is just . . . hard . . . to know how to act. . . I do not know what people expect of me, or even how they see me. They expected a warrior; instead they got a heartsick fool."

I stepped closer. "Why does love make you a fool?"

His eyes flickered. "I am a fool, to be so upset over a single mortal's decision."

"Then so am I."

Legolas started. "You?" he exclaimed. "You, a fool? Never."

"But I am, according to your definition," I countered gently. "For it was Aragorn's decision to tell me to sail to Valinor that had me wandering sleepless in the halls of Imladris for weeks on end, worrying whether I should sail or stay. . ."

As I spoke, I could see how he flinched when I mentioned sailing to Valinor. And then I knew what was bothering him.

"You do not know whether to sail or stay, do you?" I asked softly.

That seemed to do it.

"And you do not how much I envy you, Arwen," he shot back, his voice steady despite the tremors running through his body. "Aragorn lives. He will be King. He will be _your_ King. And he will be the father of your children. You will live with him for the rest of your life; you need not fear the idea that sailing or staying might be better for him, or for you, or for your love. And you do not need to argue with yourself about why and have the various arguments with everyone weighing in with different ideas."

I allowed him to continue speaking until he had run out of steam. It was true; in a way, I was in a much more desirable situation. I _knew_ what was going to come. I was not left in fear and sadness as he was.

But sometimes knowing the future was just as bad as not knowing it.

After a long pause, I assumed he was done, so I ventured, "Yes, Legolas. I am in a better situation than you . . . but only just."

He looked back at me, confusion on his face.

So I continued, "Legolas, everything you say is true. But you have forgotten one key element. I may be mortal, as that has how I have chosen, but I _will_ live longer than Aragorn. Even my father has foreseen as such. I will live with him, I will love him, I will watch him rule and play with our children. And I will watch him grow old, and I will see him fade, and I will be there when he dies.

"So, yes, I know the future. I know that for some time I will be happy, but I will taste the bitterness of mortality as you do. For Aragorn _will_ die, and I will not be able to prevent it, and I will still be alive, in sorrow and in doubt . . . like you."

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Legolas, you are not a fool. My heart told me to stay, not just for Aragorn, but for me. If your heart tells you that you loved Estel, that you truly loved her, then you are not a fool either."

Silence reigned.

And in that silence, I could see the power of my words and the power of his overwhelming sorrow battling in him.

Then, finally, he sighed.

"Thank you, Arwen," he said, a sigh leaving his lips. "I had forgotten. . . Your burden is in many ways just as great as my own, and in some ways worse. Forgive me."

I hugged him. "There is nothing to forgive," I murmured. "But you _can_ do me a favor, Legolas."

He tilted his head, gold hair whipping in the wind alongside my own dark hair. He was as regal as I was, and his bloodline was as strong as mine, and now our fates would be evermore mingled in the power of the struggles and hardships we would take on – especially since they were carried by the heart and the power of love.

"And that is?" he asked.

I touched his cheek. "Make your choice – but do so because of what _you_ want. Not what anyone else wants." I forced myself to smile, for his benefit. "And I _will_ see at the end of the world, so keep your promise."

His musical laughter in response was enough to make the smile real, and the conversation worth its weight in gold.

~ _Elrond Peredhel_ ~  
"Legolas?"

But the elfling didn't stir.

I chuckled to myself. "Elfling" was hardly an accurate term; Legolas was not that far apart in age than my own children. But elfling he seemed to me, and I still remembered with abject clarity the first day I had seen him, so many years ago, an eager young one running around causing laughter and trouble in each amounts.

"Legolas."

I approached him on silent footsteps. To the eyes of Men, Legolas seemed perfectly composed as he stared out over Minas Tirith at the sunset, which made his hair shine like gold and cast multicolored flames of light over his body. He would seem full of confidence, and blessed with otherworldly handsomeness, and powerful skills of battle, and centuries of wisdom from his many years. He would seem perfect, and as alien to Men as one could ever get, even more alien than Aragorn.

But to Elven eyes, there was a completely different story.

Legolas was still composed, but there was as lingering sadness that tainted his fëa. To the eyes of a healer who had seen many deaths, I knew what that meant.

He was fading.

Dying, in other words – or as close to dying as the Eldar could get.

And I was not the only one who had seen that.

Thranduil, I knew, had already urged him to sail once he had realized just how deeply Estel's disappearance had impacted Legolas. After all, his father had nearly lost his wife to fading, and he had seen my pain when my Celebrían had nearly faded, and so he did not wish to also lose his son.

Aragorn and Arwen had spoken with him as well, although what they urged him to do I knew not. After all, their situation was quite different from Legolas's situation. Aragorn would die, but Arwen would be with him, and then she would die as well.

Legolas did not have that opportunity, that luxury, that choice. He had lost Estel, and he had no way of knowing if he would ever see her again.

And that sadness, that uncertainty, that _love_ – it was killing him.

"Lord Elrond." Legolas acknowledged my presence with a barely perceptible tilt of his head. "Did my father send you?" he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do I seem like an errand runner to you, elfling?" I replied, lacing my words with irony.

He sighed.

"No one sent me."

I answered my own question, because I did not have the time or the patience to dance around words with him. My own time was short; with Vilya broken, my daughter married and now mortal, and the sea's call stronger than ever before, I had little time to lavish on conversations, even important ones like this one. I needed to get my point across as quickly and as eloquently as possible, because if there was anything I knew about Legolas, it was that he was stubborn.

"Why have you come?"

I glanced at him with narrowed eyes. Legolas was not generally rude either.

"Why should I not come to speak with you?" I returned. "I knew Estel even longer than you did, and she is my kin as much as she was your _meleth_."

Legolas inhaled sharply. "How – "

"Why else would you be so affected by her return to where she belongs?"

He stared at the sunset, not answering.

I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought it would be. "Have you decided yet?" I asked, choosing to go directly the matter at hand and move from there.

"Yes." He sighed. "No. I do not know. . . I keep second-guessing myself every time I make a decision."

I nodded. "It is usual. . . Arwen did much the same, and now Elladan and Elrohir are having their turn. I have never met anyone who knew with complete clarity what to do when it came to deciding between staying and sailing."

Legolas turned, a puzzled frown on his face. "But you did," he protested. "You stayed, even after Lady Celebrían departed."

"Staying does not mean I had a clear mind about it," I countered gently. "It took me many months to decide that staying was the best option to be made, and _that_ decision was made only after years and years of reflection."

Legolas's eyes flickered, shifting back to sadness. "Why are you telling me this?"

"You lost Estel; I will not argue with you that it was a blow from which you will never heal, even were you to find her again yesterday and never let her go." I paused. "But you are still young yet, elfling."

"I am not young."

"Yes, you are," I said firmly. "You have but begun to taste the beauty and the bitterness that is gifted to immortals, Legolas. You have barely begun. You cannot fade now."

Legolas retreated from me as though I had slapped him. "How did you know?" he whispered.

I gazed evenly at him. "I have seen many fade, Legolas, and you are no exception. Every day your light dims, and the darkness breeds in your heart. But I have lost loved ones as well. My own brother, Elros, chose mortality; he died just when I too had just begun to understand what makes the Eldar's immortality both boon and burden. And I too began, for a time, to fade and sink into the shadows of despair and sorrow. But I did not fade."

"Why not?"

He seemed at once repulsed to and hungry for my story, because the wound was so raw and deep. I knew this. And I intended to use it.

"Because I knew Elros, just as you knew Estel, and I knew that he would not have wished it," I said simply. "He would have wanted me to live, and not die and languish until the end of time in the Halls of Mandos just because I was suddenly separated from him, even though I could never breach that distance."

Legolas's eyes turned unreadable. I could see him weighing my words, listening, letting them sink in. He was considering my story.

So I concluded, "Do not fade, Legolas. Do not let the darkness win. You have lost Estel, yes. But do not dishonor her memory by allowing what she loved most about you to be your doom. That is my advice."

I was about halfway out the door when he said, "Wait."

I turned. "Yes?"

In his face, I saw more naked vulnerability than I had ever seen in Legolas's face, eyes, and expression – but also the great inner strength that had found manifested in him when he had decided to overcome the boundaries and agree to love a mortal woman who could offer nothing in return.

Nothing, save love.

"Do you ever think . . . that I will see her . . . again?"

I hesitated.

"You can only hope, Legolas."

~ _Legolas Thranduilion_ ~  
I gazed at the sunset, watching as the first stars began to twinkle overhead, glowing brightly despite the sunlight from the sun still straggling over the horizon. It was no longer day, but not yet night. And the brightest star of all, a brilliant pure white shot through with every other glittering star of the rainbow, was Eärendil, right above the White Tree of Gondor.

It was Estel's favorite time of day.

For she, after all, was a child of both the Children of the Sun and the Children of the Stars, so it was fitting, she had always said, that she was best represented when it was neither night nor day, but somewhere in between – just like her.

_Estel._

How I missed her. Everything about her. Her shining eyes, her infectious happiness, her carefree nature – but most of all her laughter.

Oh, how I missed I could have made her laugh more in the short day we had had together.

I would give almost _anything_ to see her again, to touch her warm skin and hear her musical laughter.

_Almost_ anything.

For Elrond's words were fresh in my mind, and Arwen's, and my father's.

And they were right.

Dying now would do nothing, for me or for Estel. All it would do was make permanent the separation between us. And make me a rightful fool for choosing to die instead of live a life free of the Dark Lord, something so many had yearned for. I could not toss it away so easily.

It would be the most selfish thing I could do.

And it would be, perhaps, the only decision I would regret more than losing Estel.

True, I could die, and pass over the sea to the Halls of Mandos, and lose my memory, and forget my pain and loss and sorrow – but I would also forget _her_. And I knew, without a doubt, that to remember a life, or even live a life, without the memory or presence of her would be for me to live a life far less meaningful than centuries of pain from losing her.

I looked back at the sunset, and then up at the stars.

Eärendil danced above me, brilliant, beautiful, powerful. It was a symbol that all Elves looked to since the darkest days of the Elder times.

It was also known as Gil-Estel, the star of hope.

_You can only hope, Legolas_, Elrond had said but a few minutes ago when he had left.

I smiled, and for the first time, I felt the power of the pain that was slowly squeezing the life out of me lessen. It would still be there for years to come, but it no longer controlled me. I would live – for Estel.

_As this is your time, that would be your star, _meleth_._

And with that, I made my decision.

* * *

_Many Years Later . . . _

When archers had reported seeing someone standing on the shores of Valinor, someone who clearly did not belong, my first thought had been to reach for my weapons, and so I did. I ran to the shores with reinforcements, and only dimly wondered how someone the Valar did not want to arrive had managed to come to Valinor.

But then the person had turned, and for a second my heart had frozen and burned at once.

And then, through rapidly blurring eyes, I had had Estel again.

I had held her, I had kissed her, _I was with her again_ – and it had been the greatest joy of my entire life. Then she had whispered my name, and she had told me, "Eru sent me back. He gave me the Choice. And I chose you" and, then, finally, she had said the three words I had waited for ages to hear: "And I you."

They had told me that Estel was lost forever.

They had said it was pointless waiting.

They had said that in time my heart would heal, and I would forget her, and I would find someone else, and I would be happy again.

Despite all of their words, though, and all of their confidence, I had never forgotten her, never stopping loving her, and never found anyone else with whom I could be happy again.

But Estel was lost to me.

And yet . . .

And yet, they had also told me one more thing: _You can only hope, Legolas._

But as I stared down through tear-blinded eyes to gaze on the beloved face of the only woman I would ever love, I disagreed – with everything they had said.

_I can do much more than hope._

_ I can love._

And so I would, for Estel, _my_ Estel, my _meleth_, was back, and now I could live again.

* * *

Translations:

_Ion-nin_ = my son

_Ada_ = Daddy/Father

_Meleth_ = my love


End file.
